Hello, my name is Zaid and Space Crusade / Crusaders is what's brought me here to your lovely forum. ...unfortunately I'm confused and don't quite see where I should be posting about Space Crusade on your lovely forum. Hopefully someone can give me a little guidance soon but until then I guess this counts as my 'Hi, I'm me!" post.

Hope to engage you all more and soon. SC has really made some inroads in my brain causing the living army on my shelf to emerge from hibernation (I collect models from several ranges to merge into my Chaos World Eaters army). The SC line looks to expand my interests with a full Sisters faction as well.

If I decide to share the fiction it pops up you can bet it'll be here first

and I decided 'what the heck', all miniatures games eventually bleed over anyway (it's why I got Veer-myn in my 40k universe ) Sharing a little bit of that fiction now. (and apologies if a word or two need to be deleted or if the whole thing must be removed on account of relevance to Warzone)

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A storm was brewing on Forge World Aegis Ignis. In the tenth year of recovery after the breaking of Waaagh Neck-snapaa the planet’s Supreme Magos Primaris was playing host to an envoy from the Ecclessiarchy.

The envoy wasn’t simply angry he was fuming. “This change is unacceptable!”

“It is. That’s all there needs to be said. If that’s all then I believe you can forfeit the rest of your time and return home Hierophant.”

The Hierophant glared at the Magos and then he glared at the timepiece in the room counting down the last fifteen minutes of the twenty-seven the Magos had graciously bestowed upon him. “I will not yield.” He yelled. He dearly wanted to have the man arrested, imprisoned, burnt at the stake but the Magos had ‘respectfully declined’ all summons citing his workload as de-facto planetary governor all of which kept the Magos both incredibly busy and conveniently on-planet and away from the Hierophant’s armed dropship.

Busy until at least two days ago when the Magos’ staff offered the Hierophant the span of a 30-minute meeting that conveniently opened up (a holo-meeting with a system that had since been lost, an appointment with an Inquisitor who had gone missing, who could tell?) As a result the meeting took place not on the Hierophant’s ship but in the Magos’ reception-throne.

“Our agreement has stood for four millennia; your obligation stands.”

“To supply your arm militant with arms and armor, believe me Hierophant I know the terms better than you can imagine. Allow me to clarify my position: we are in reconstruction after the ravages of invasion; the accursed greenskins did a lot of damage- sections of the planet are still burning. It inconveniences you I’m sure, but had Aegis Ignis fallen you’d be in the same position you’re in now agreement or no.”

“Aegis Ignis has NOT fallen!”

“When it comes to our facilities for the Sororitas Power Armor, it has. When it comes to your Godwyn-De’az pattern boltguns and ammunition you may rest at ease, the shipment should resume within a fortyear, perhaps sooner. When it comes to your armor, however, that won’t be happening. It will take decades just to identify the machinery damaged in the invasion and years more to manufacture replacements; to say nothing of the rites to soothe and appease the wounded Machine Spirit that lies within… if indeed they may recover. Otherwise I will have no choice but to petition the Fabricator General.”

“On Traxxis?”

“On Mars.”

“This is-“

“Yes, yes, tragic I know. Unfortunately there is nothing to be done. I’ll see what I can do to transfer the obligation to Traxxis. The Fabricator would of course be honored by your patronage, though I do not know if he has the facilities suitable for this either.”

“I will take this up, do you hear me? I will take this up to Sector Command, to Segmentum Command, to the High lords of the Administratum if I have to!”

“Of course. I will have my lexmechanic redact the proper forms for your man. Ideally everything will be ready by the time his grandson returns from his petition.”

“You sanctimonious-“

“Hierophant, you have my understanding and you have my sympathies. Unfortunately you do not have my parts nor do you have the currency to expedite their manufacture and, as of five seconds from now, you have no audience time remaining. I wish you good luck and a good day and a good journey home. Goodbye.”

As the Hierophant stormed out the Magos exchanged information with his advisor in rapid-fire binary code. “Was that wise?”

“It was accurate.”

“Forgiveness, it is not accurate. Forge facilities’ damage exaggerated: Facilities retooled and consolidated.”

“Ephraim,” he spoke “suffer me to speak plain. The damaged factories were operating at near eighty percent efficiency each. By repurposing parts from the Sororitas-pattern facility we have enough to keep the Mark VII facility operating at a projected one hundred and seventeen percent efficiency with the remainder suitable to build further expanded facilities within three decades.”

“Why?”

The Magos exhaled slowly. “I have negotiated an accord with the Wolves of Fenris. You are familiar with them?”

“Braggarts’ and drunkards.”

“Yes but also human. Far more human than any other Legion.”

“Chapter.”

“It makes no difference. The Wolves need reinforcements, enough to found a new successor Chapter for the Altheron Crusade.”

“That Crusade is still in planning.”

“Do you believe the Imperial Guard will play a greater role in its securing than the Wolves?”

“No.”

“No. For an increase in production I am promised exclusivity to resources obtained for one standard century, theoretically enough to increase production throughout the next millennium.”

“A worthy gamble.”

“And what does the Ecclesiarchy offer in its place?”

“…”

“Threats and arrogance. Let the Hierophant huff, we are not subject to the Imperial Cult.”

“Omnissiah be praised for that but the Hierophant’s complaints are not to be dismissed so easily, particularly with such a long-sighted plan. We may find ourselves inconvenienced.”

“I am sending him my dictates as well as a strong encouragement to make due with the resources he has. At worst he may appeal to the Inquisition but I doubt things will come to that – after all, an Inquisitor may petition anyone for troops. Why settle for Sororitas?”

“Reasonable but, if I may, between carrying dead weight and cutting them off completely with naught but hollow words I would propose a middle-path alternative.”

A long stream of binary crossed the air between them, it lasted twenty-seven seconds.

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